


'Till We Collapse

by bitch_i_migth_be



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Danny Phantom
Genre: And for ClockWork, Bisexual Disaster Danny Fenton, By that last one I meant Bisexual, Eventual Gotham City Takeover, Goals: Giving the future Batfam 3 parent figures instead of one constipated dad, If there is a city still standing once these three are done courting, Kitten Disaster Selina Kyle, Multi, Plain Human Disaster Bruce Wayne, Polyamory, This was inspired by Gotham (tv series), he can do better. We all can do better., love bruce, thank god for Alfred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25028182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitch_i_migth_be/pseuds/bitch_i_migth_be
Summary: Oh, Fuck.Danny sent a glance to Selina from the corner of his eye. She was side-eyeing him too. The panicky expression was visible on both their faces. They turned their attention back to Bruce.He had started making silly faces at the kitten.Fuuuuuck.OrIn which Danny Fenton and Selina Kyle commiserate over their unavoidable mutual infatuation over this manpain affected disaster child.The three meet, go shopping, have sad times, learn to trust each other, plan a city take-over, and learn how not to burn down the goddamn kitchen —or city— in the process. Thank god for Alfred.It's a work in progress.
Relationships: Danny Fenton/Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle
Comments: 22
Kudos: 120





	'Till We Collapse

**Author's Note:**

> Me and my indulgences. *sighs. A happy sigh, though*
> 
> Ages:   
> Selina 18, Danny 17, Bruce 16.
> 
> Let me know what you think.  
> And if you find errors, I would be happy to correct them :3

Daniel James Fenton had not been having the best day — or months — of his half-life, and now the rain seemed to be soaking him to the very bone. 

He was currently sitting on a sidewalk furiously —and silently— trying to avoid having a meltdown, doing his best to fuse to the ground after being all but kicked out of Wayne Enterprises.

This had been his last shot. 

And it had backfired on his face.

_ What a fucking surprise. _

He let out a long heavy sigh and started massaging his temples to help ease the headache he could feel coming. His head bowed low so he could stare at the running water at his feet, a weak frown formed on his face while he cursed his inability to stop thinking about what had made him end up here of all places.

He had, blessedly, graduated high school some months ago. It had been the best thing to happen to him in a long while. He could say goodbye to the extra-long all-nighters he pulled because of schoolwork, no more detentions, or getting grounded for reasons outside of his power, no more getting stuffed into lockers. Oh god, no more Dash!

He had been in cloud ninth! 

Then his friends started talking about their college plans and his high spirits had all but splattered against the ground.

With all the energy he had put into worrying about managing to graduate, he had made himself briefly forget about college. For the sole reason that he thought he didn't have to bother thinking about it. 

He already knew he was not going. He had long ago resigned himself to a sad destiny in which he wouldn’t be capable of touching his dream job even if he had a 6-foot pole. He supposed he would continue to scrape by in life, avoid his parents, get some boring low wage work, the works. it would all been relatively ‘fine’ if his mind hadn’t bypassed an important detail. 

H-He had forgotten his friends would go away.

The thought hurt. Horribly so. But it wouldn’t be fair to his friends to keep them from going out into the world to accomplish their dreams. If there was anyone that deserved it it was them. His sister, Jazz, had already left for college on a full-ride scholarship two years ago. It was just a matter of time from there. He just didn’t want to see it. 

So he retreated in the familiar grounds of resignation, reassured his friends about going out to make their dreams become a reality, _ of course he would be fine, what are you two on about? _ and slapped on a smile. A great accomplishment, considering the abysmal pit that had replaced his guts.

His friends eventually left, and his parents had ended up offering him a job. Probably born from their never-dying hopes that at least one of their children would follow in their pat, even if it wasn’t their perfect princess. He was not even mad about it. Just. kinda numb. 

He accepted, of course. Because he had no self-respect whatsoever and he was actively hunting ghosts — when he wasn’t the one being hunted — anyway. May as well own it and take advantage of the easy access it gave him to the lab and ghost hunting equipment. He needed it more than ever now that he-

Now that he was on his own.

So he started working for them and took over the brunt of the housework.

It didn’t mean that he liked spending time with them, though. 

He started to spend most of his free time out of the house, he had more money than before, but he had nothing to spend it on apart from getting decontaminated food to ingest and buying materials to fix his cellphone after a ghost fight wrecked it to shit. 

With no friends to hang out with there was no reason to spend the money, and even wasting it on fast food had become a chore. Constantly trying to avoid pitying looks for always sitting alone in the corner table. Pitying looks that would follow him almost anywhere in the fucking town. 

It was the bad thing of everyone knowing the weird Fenton kid and his old ragtag group.

He started to hang out with the ghosts. 

They reserved their pity for themselves.

He talked with them. Actual civil conversations. He had the time now.

It came to his attention that when one tried to talk it out with them, instead of going in blasts & puns blazing, the ghost listened a 70% of the time, 20% were just fucking bored and wanted to blow off some steam, the last 10% required a more delicate solution that always ended with Danny negotiating terms and conditions and asking the Ghostwriter for help in checking everything over and meditating between the halfa and the other party. 

He now needed to make favors for GW from time to time, but in the end, it was worth it. 

This, of course, resulted in more time in the ghost zone. 

More time in the ghost zone meant more time for the ghost to get a hold of him. This, most of the time, meant being asked to help out with dealing with the occasional shenanigan that was going down with the inhabitants of the Infinity Realms. It helped to break the monotony that had taken over his life, so for the most part he did not mind. 

Until the Observants had been the ones to get a hold on him. 

Then he had fucking minded. 

Because they wanted to crown him King. 

For the love of the ancients! He hadn’t been a high school drop out by the skin of his teeth. What the fuck where they thinking?!

They-

They had wanted to make him a full ghost.

H-He had barely succeeded in getting away from them, and that with some help. But he knew that they would not give up so easily, not on this. The would try again, eventually. 

He had gone on whit his days, warily looking over his shoulder in case an Observant wanted to get the drop on him. He was sure things could not get worse by this point. 

He was wrong. 

Not a week later, his parents started working for the G.I.W. 

A contract with the government was the best thing they could hope for, they said.

If he had felt like suffocating in his own house before there was no way to describe the horrible feeling of claustrophobic hopelessness that had taken root on his chest. 

He had been feigning cheerfulness when his sister or friends called to check up on him. Just enough. Wouldn’t want to tip them off. After all this time he had his lying skill all but mastered and his heart on a death grip. 

He was not sure he could do the same thing the next time someone called. 

He had hit rock-bottom. 

And he had snapped.

The ghosts were not hurting anyone anymore, they didn’t deserve to be treated as less than animals!

And for that matter neither did he. 

He was getting out of that fucking house. Out of this bloody town. One way or another. 

So he started to weigh up his options. His parents wouldn’t let him go without a good explanation. If he started to explain some bullshit reason he was afraid he would get mad and end up spilling all the gory soup in one go, and that was just unhealthy. He couldn’t tip off the G.I.W. that there was something “wrong” with the youngest Fenton. Oh my god, what if his parents thought he was possessed? What if the G.I.W. thought he was possessed? 

That could go real bad, real fast.

He  _ was _ 17, he could file for emancipation. It wouldn’t be hard to argue his parent’s house was not the best place for him. He would need a job though. 

So, if he wanted anything resembling a normal life, it was either convincing them that he could manage on his own out there or fight for emancipation in court and prove  _ there  _ that he could manage on his own. 

If he went for the second one he would most likely need a restriction order against his parents and most likely the G.I.W. if they all wanted to use the possession card. Although if his parents went and tried to say that in front of a judge maybe they would be sent to a mental hospital outright, which, uh, they were still his parents, so. 

Anyway.

Good luck getting a restriction order against a government branch, though. 

Soooo, convincing his parents he could make it on his own and wanted more than life in a boring town it was.

The only problem now was that he couldn’t think of what kind of job he  _ could get _ .

He had hit a bit of a roadblock.

He undoubtedly needed help with this one.

So he decided to ask the only adult in this godforsaken town that could — and would probably — help him.

Mr. Lancer.

Needless to say, he was not  _ super _ happy to see him again. 

But after a thorough — and heavily edited — explanation of what exactly was going on in the Fenton Household, he acceded. 

After an extremely long Q & A directed by Mr. Lancer, they had the best answer. Engineering. As weird as it was to think about himself working in the same kind of thing as his parents, the more time he rolled the idea on his mind the less it seemed like wild a thought. He  _ had _ learned a lot of things from his parents about machines, and some more from his try and error. The kind of projects he liked — and even enjoyed — to work on was not focused on hunting ghosts, and that was an advantage in his favor. Because not many people believed in ghosts outside of Amity Park. And outside of the town was where he wanted to be. 

It was perfect. 

He looked through his folders and laptop for some useful inventions he had come up with, and Mr. Lancer was cool enough to help him get some patents on his name, patted him on the shoulder, wished him good luck, and sent him on his way. 

He already felt a lot better. Not freed. But better.

He talked it out with his parents and, against all the feelings of apprehension that had invaded his body, they took it relatively well. His mom had even been a little bit teary that  _ her baby _ was inventing all on his own. They asked for him to send confirmation of the good news when he had them, or they —his parents joked — would be hunting his ass down to bring him back home. 

He believed them. 

He hightailed it out of dodge as soon as he possibly could with what little things he had at his name before they had tome to regret their choice. He made a brief detour to say the good news to a pair of ghosts and asked them to spread the word he was leaving, and once settled he would see about arranging a portal so they could keep his side of the deal with the ghosts he had made contracts with. It would take a while, but he was sure it would happen.

Amity Park would be no ghost’s land from now on. It was too dangerous now. 

He had made his way to Gotham in hopes of convincing some big fish on Wayne Enterprises that making a contract with him would be a good idea, maybe making him work for the R&D department, or at least selling to them some patents. 

The idea seemed pretty solid at first, and honestly was the only option available considering the circumstances. His parents had already tried — and failed — to talk most of the companies in the STEM sector into funding their  _ ghost research _ , all except W.E. where the Fenton name had remained untainted. And Vlad's Companies. But there was no way in hell he was going to _him_.

Sadly, even with all the time and planning, he had inverted into this, how he had somehow managed to get an appointment to be heard — honestly, if he had to point fingers his would be in clockwork’s direction —. he didn’t have any proper backing to his words other than his registered patents. And to top it all off  _ they had _ heard about his parents. 

Maybe if Danny hadn’t made such a big effort in keeping the ghost under wraps — and later protecting them — his parents would not be such a laughing stock nowadays. 

They had not listened to him. Had not given him a chance to properly explain more than a rushed depiction of what he could offer, everyone appeared to be looking down his nose at him. It was disheartening. They rushed him out so fast he didn’t even have time to retrieve some oh his papers.

After that, he had permitted his legs to give out from underneath him and crashed on the sidewalk right in front of W.E. 

He didn't feel like moving forward anymore.

Everything was crashing around him like a bad soap opera.

H-He didn’t know how he would fix this.

He didn’t want to go back to his parents. He didn’t want Vlad’s help. He wouldn’t even dream of imposing on his sister. Or ruining any shot his friends had at a bright future.

Not when his future seemed to be dimming by the second.

More like shortening.

A-as much as he hated to admit it, maybe the Observants were right.

Maybe it was time to just a-accept his destiny and just di-

A hand landing gently on his shoulder brought him back from spiraling further into the dark abyss of thoughts he had weaved on his head. He gave a startled little jump on his seat on the sidewalk and looked up at the owner of the hand. 

He thought briefly about reprimanding himself, he was so gone on his musings that a boy had stopped by his side and he hadn’t even noticed, but honestly, he was in no state to rain upon his parade even more than it already had. 

The boy was about his age, he stood by his side holding an umbrella over them both. He was shielding Danny from the worst of it, even though he was getting some rain on himself to do so. Kind of pointless, considering Danny already looked like he was cosplaying a wet rag, but it was a nice gesture.

A pair of sky blue eyes met his own icy blue. The boy was looking at him attentively as if waiting for an answer. 

H-He had been talking?

“Sorry, what?”

The boy kept looking thoughtfully at him while he gave his answer. 

“I said I wanted to apologize for the behavior of the employees of Wayne Enterprises. There is no excuse for giving such coarse treatment to someone who only wanted to talk about business. No reason to treat _anybody_ like that.” The other teen frowned lightly and continued under his breath. “They all should know by now how much you can lose acting like that.” 

Danny was not sure if he should have heard that last bit, but before he could say anything the other carried on.

“Speaking of which,” with that, the teen raised the hand not holding the umbrella and Danny caught sight of the papers he had been forced to leave behind. “I must ask, Mr. Fenton, if you are still interested in making business with Wayne Enterprises”

Danny couldn’t help himself. He was speechless and openly gaping at the other boy. 

“I- I- I’m- I mean you’re- What? W-Who?”

The boy smiled —kindly — down at him.

“I’m Bruce Wayne. A pleasure to meet you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Danny was being slightly melodramatic with the “last shot” thing, if he had waited for a little the end-of-the-world hopelessness would have flowed out of his system — not the weariness, though —, he would have gotten back up like a half-drowned boss bitch and dug under rocks for options if he had to. 
> 
> Good thing he didn’t need to.
> 
> Cheers for Bruce.


End file.
